


Quite the Mouthful

by Synodic



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Knotting, Oral Knotting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synodic/pseuds/Synodic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift has a mod left over from his Decepticon days. Ratchet has an oral fixation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite the Mouthful

“Comfy?” Drift asked, his voice hoarse with arousal. The effect was electrifying; Ratchet shivered with excitement, his mouth watering and interface array giving a pang of lust from behind his closed panels. The old medic was laying on his back, his head just barely over the edge of the berth, which had been adjusted until its height was about level with Drift’s hips. His wrists were tied together with black cord and settled on his chest; he tended to get a little handsy, and that wasn’t part of the evening’s festivities.

“Yeah kid, c’mon, I’m ready.” Ratchet pled, swallowing a mouthful of oral solvent- he’d been ready for _days,_ and now that what he wanted was _right there_ it was hard to stop himself from trying to wiggle in anticipation.

“You sure?” Drift teased, rubbing his interface paneling against Ratchet’s cheek. It was radiating heat already, and from that close he could smell the valve lubricant pooling behind his seams.

“ _Yes._ Please Drift, please. I want it!” Ratchet was more than happy to beg more, to make a show of himself if it would get Drift to move the show along- but thankfully he didn’t have to. His lover smiled down at him, and with a soft click his spike jutted up into the air. He licked his lips, his ventilations quickening. He’d seen plenty of equipment in his time, but damn if this one in particular wasn’t a work of art. Drift’s spike was made of smooth ridges and engraved whorls, long and thick with a slight curve upwards. Ratchet panted as Drift shifted, rubbing his spike back and forth across his face; he chased it with his mouth, giving a soft whine when it slipped just barely out of reach. It was maddeningly close to where he wanted it to be, but damn Drift for loving to tease!

The mech in question gently stroked over his bottom lip with his thumb, pulling his jaw open as far as it could go. His other fingers stroked over his throat, feeling the medic swallow another wave of oral fluids.

“Say please.” he whispered.

“Drift! Drift pl-eeughhhg-!” Ratchet’s voice was muffled around the sudden thrust of Drift’s spike into his mouth; he took the length with practiced ease, relaxing his throat around the sudden intrusion with a moan. Ratchet’s eyes fluttered closed as he soaked in the feeling of a hot, thick spike in his intake, the smell of oil and lubricant just under his nose, the sound of soft pants and the gentle whirr of fans. _Perfect._

Drift grabbed his bound wrists and Ratchet relaxed his throat further- welcoming the next thrust deep into his intake. He moaned and closed his legs around his hot panels, rubbing his thighs together to try to gain some friction. Two more partial thrusts and Drift’s cord was as deep into his throat as it could get, his armor knocking against Ratchet’s chin. His vents wheezed as fingers trailed over his throat, pressing down lightly to feel the bulge his spike made. He would bet a million shanix that Drift was grinning wide enough to show off his lovely Decepticon-grade fangs in that moment.  

The thought made Ratchet shiver, and Drift took that as a cue to adjust his grip on his wrists and start thrusting. He sucked and slurped on the spike as it stretched his mouth, his moan cutting in and out as the thrusts picked up. Each ridge dragged across his tongue, filling his mouth with the particular flavor of Drift that he always craved.

“So good, Ratch’! You feel so good. Primus!” his lover groaned, arching over him and spreading his legs a little wider. “Your mouth is _amazing_.”

Ratchet hummed and sucked smugly, his spark fluttering at the praise. Damn right his mouth was good, and it deserved to be put to good use. He reminded Drift of this by swallowing around his spike, urging him to go faste rand harder, to use him as he wanted. The cry he got in response made his valve gush with fluids; by now it had to be leaking out of his seams, he was certain he could feel lubricant pooling under his aft and dripping down his thighs.

Drift hooked his fingers around the edges of Ratchet’s hip plating, using his rough hold to drive himself deep down his intake, jerking his whole frame into each thrust. Ratchet hummed and moaned, his optics hazy as he relaxed into it. This was exactly what he wanted; Drift using his mouth for his own pleasure, his hot spike deep in his throat, and the beginning swell of his knot pushing back and forth across his lips. The only thing that would make it better was if he could touch himself, just get a little bit of relief from the heat and electric pangs. The head of his spike was knocking against the back of his panels, and his valve felt so swollen that it was a wonder it hadn’t just forced the plating open.

He felt Drift shudder above him, his spike giving a twitch that knocked against the wall of his throat. Drift’s vents were hitching, the wheels in his thighs giving little twitches. Excitement joined the heady charge in his lines; he had to be close to overload, and Ratchet was one step closer to getting what he’d _really_ been after. He redoubled his efforts, flicking his tongue around the top of Drift’s spike as he swallowed and sucked and hummed- if his hands had been free he would’ve chosen that moment to sneak a finger or two into Drift’s soaked valve as well.

Drift’s spike twitched again, and Ratchet tasted pre-fluid on his tongue. The speedster groaned, long and low, as he thrust one last time into his mouth. With his plating against Ratchet’s chin, he held himself steady as the base of his spike started to swell. The thick knot pushed against his tongue and his cheeks, forcing his mouth open as wide as his specs allowed- it was only when it could grow no larger did it stop. There was only a moment, before Drift’s frame shuddered again and his spike twitched, a long stream of fluid jetting down the channel of his throat. Ratchet hastened to swallow, a difficult task despite how deep he was. He’d barely gotten it down when another hot spurt erupted, then another. Had Drift been knotting his valve, his overflow tanks would have already opened to accept the flood coming from his lover. Drift moaned and panted above him- the long, drawn out overload leaving him hazy in the processor. Ratchet felt the hard knot twitch as it expanded just a fraction, before the largest rush of fluids yet filled his intake. It was too much, too quickly; Drift’s mod not only allowed him to empty his fluid reservoir all at once, but he also had much, much more to give. Another gush came before he could finish swallowing and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

He gagged around the sudden influx of fluids, his back arching and feet scraping against the berth, optics watering. He swallowed what he could, but he was no match against the quick, hot pulses of transfluid; with the knot blocking his mouth and his intake fluttering around the length of his spike, the rest of the fluid rushed up the back of his intake and out of his nostrils. Ratchet moaned and choked all at once- overloading with his panels still closed. The sensation of hot fluids pooling in crevices made him squirm, and he moaned again around Drift’s spike.

“F-frag, Ratch’.” Drift slurred, nearly laying over him now. “Frag you feel so good.”

The pulses of transfluid eased off slowly, the knot shrinking by increments. By the time the knot was small enough to slip out of Ratchet’s mouth his tank was as full as could be, leaving him feeling warm and sated. Drift eased himself out of his mouth, watching the old medics face with no small amount of interest as bits of transfluid and oral solvent he hadn’t swallowed leaked around the corners of his lips. With a happy hum, the speedster gently helped Ratchet scoot all the way onto the berth, then sat on the edge to undo the cord around his wrists that Ratchet had almost forgotten. The freedom felt good, and the massage Drift applied to his joints and hands felt better. When he was satisfied, Drift moved on from rubbing his hands to his jaw, helping to work out some of the ache.

“Thank you, Ratchet. That was amazing- I didn’t- I mean-”

The medic laughed, quiet and half-asleep. “Anytime Drift. I should be thanking you for tasting so good.” He licked his lips for emphasis.

Drift’s finials glowed a soft red, and he dipped his chin so Ratchet couldn’t see the smile on his face. After all this time he was still made shy by the slightest compliments, no matter that he’d just deep-throated and knotted his lover.

“Oh come down here already.’ Ratchet huffed, pulling Drift to lay along his side. Now that they were both laying down, he realized how truly tired he was. At least he didn’t feel as old when Drift was already nodding off. Clean-up could wait for the morning.

 


End file.
